"Oh yes, Thomas; tell Betsy to bake me some cakes," was his reply.
Poor Lucy! what should she do? She did not like to leave her brother to call Mrs. Maxwell; yet something, she knew, ought to be done for him immediately. At length she thought to knock on the wall, and wake Mrs. Maxwell, as her room was next to Harty's.
"What, afraid again?" said Mrs. Maxwell, as she saw Lucy standing by her brother's bed.
A groan from Harty, and a few muttered words, immediately drew her attention to him.
"I told you he was ill last night; why, how hot he is! Harty, what ails you?" said Mrs. Maxwell in a breath.
Harty could not tell what ailed him, for he was delirious with fever.
"What shall we do?" said Mrs. Maxwell, desperately: "your father won't be home till near morning, I know, and I am afraid to give any medicine, for he always scolds about my 'dosing the children.'"
"But Harty ought to have something done for him, I am sure," said Lucy.
"Well, we'll do what we can to put him in a perspiration," said Mrs. Maxwell. "I'll go to the kitchen and make him some hot drink, and get hot water for his feet, and may be that'll be the best thing till the doctor comes home." So saying, she disappeared with the light she had brought in her hand.
Lucy put on her brother's great coat, that lay on a chair; for the storm had cooled the air, and she was quite chilly. Thus equipped, she began to act the nurse as well as she could. Her first step was to light a lamp. Harty had a nice lucifer-box on his shelf: she felt carefully for it, and managed to find it without knocking down any of his treasures.